


Second Chances

by aserene



Series: Judgement Day Rewritten [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Judgement Day AU, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aserene/pseuds/aserene
Summary: Gibbs wakes up to a world where things aren’t quite the way he thought they should be, a dream or fate intervenes?
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jenny Shepard
Series: Judgement Day Rewritten [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737406
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own NCIS.  
> Quarantine Writing Continues. Another older story reposted. This one is a short one but...I had some inspiration so while it's short, there's a second fic that follows.

_Part I_

It had been just four months since he had last felt the desire to go to work. Four months since he'd had a boss who was both friend and partner, and a team that was as close to a family as he figured he would ever have. Parts of his team were still there, fragmented and depressed in the change of power and familial destruction. Some days he wanted to blame Tony and Ziva, but then he would hear their voices on a phone that was not theirs, struggling to keep calm, struggling to tell him what had happened. 

Leroy Jethro Gibbs glanced up from his place underneath the ribs of the new boat he was working on, and his eyes found the combination of red, white, and blue folded into a perfect triangle. The triangle was the flag that was once draped over the coffin of one Jennifer Shepard, former Director of NCIS. He had received it as her partner, possibly the only family she had left. Sure there were hundreds of people at her funeral. Agents, Lobbyists, heads of organizations, senators, even the President put in an appearance with the Secretary of the Navy. People who had known her only as of the confident influential Director, who had let the power go to her head. There were whispers that the fire was a suicide attempt, that she, like her father, had betrayed their country, but they remained whispers at least under his glare. Few people attended who had known Jenny the person, or Jenny, the woman. She had no lover, no child, no parent, and had been an only child. The closet family had been her housekeeper, Noemi, and him…and his team, of course. His team, who despite what they may have thought of some of her actions, loved her as a mother and did not want to have to deal without her. The disintegration of his team and the formation of his new team did nothing to help that attitude. Tony, no doubt, thought he was being punished, Ziva probably felt betrayed, McGee simply didn't want to be split from the team, and Abby…Abby begged daily for him to get the team back. 

Gibbs had tried. The new Director, one Leon Vance, was not nearly as gracious to him as his predecessor. No doubt, Vance felt Gibbs had been given too much of a leash, and it was time for him to learn to heel. Gibbs did not like taking orders from him. Still, it was a job, and jobs were a necessity. He moved to get up and went up to his bathroom to shave quickly. He passed by the frame that once held the photo of his former partner and lover but did not notice it was empty. He drove to his coffee place, not particularly caring if he was later than 0700. It was the bickering that caused him to nearly drop his coffee as he stepped off the elevator. 

Tony and Ziva. They stood facing each other in the center of the desks, McGee sitting to the side, attempting to stay out of Ziva's line of fire, Abby sitting beside him encouraging it. Gibbs stared. He glanced from the elevator to his desk again, trying to determine what this mirage was supposed to be caused by. Had he perhaps finally overdosed on the bourbon? Surely that was not possible. Could he be dreaming? He didn't, at least not about his team, and not lately, and not if the voice calling his name…was his name being called?  
  


"SPECIAL AGENT GIBBS!" Came the snapped command from above. He swallowed his heart tightly, jumping to his throat as he glanced up at the catwalk. There she stood, in her three-inch heels, pencil skirt and blazer. Red hair pulled up, make up perfect. "Jethro, a word." She came to her voice again as she tilted her head to her office. The team had fallen silent, and he gave them a good glare before making his way to the stairs. He took them faster then he would have and entered her office staring at her. He wasn't sure how his dreams could be so accurate; if he didn't know better, he would swear she was alive. 

The redhead was more than a little suspicious when her former partner did not just barge in but followed slowly. He did not make some comment at her, nor had he head slapped his senior field agent. Then there was the stare. The way he was looking at her had her flashing back to Marseilles when he would give her such looks all the time. 

"What's wrong with you?" She asked snarkily. He said nothing. "Have I missed a button or something?" 

"What?" He asked, blinking rapidly. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he was hiding tears. 

"You're staring at me like I have three heads," she replied. 

"Well, three identities, maybe," he teased, trying to hide his emotions. She gave a brief smile, glad to see him returning to normal. The flash of pain that crossed through his eyes, though, was not hard to miss, and she felt her own heart constrict tightly. "What… what is today's date?" 

"May 14."  
"May 14?" He echoed his eyes widening. Gibbs processed the time. It was just a week before she went to LA, at least in his mind. Perhaps. Perhaps he could stop it. 

"Yes, which means agent evaluations are due shortly, and you need to start yours," She continued. She kept talking, and he tuned her out, remembering this conversation from previously. It was just as she was about to shoo him out of the office that the phone rang, and he braced himself, knowing what the phone call contained. 

"Director," Cynthia's voice came right on cue. 

"Cynthia?"

"The LA Field office is on the line, it's urgent." Gibbs watched as Jenny picked up the phone, and he watched as the color drained predictably from her face. He remembered her sitting down in her chair as the telephone continued, and he had stayed on his side of the desk. This time he moved beside her as she sat down. She put the phone back in its cradle and stared facing the wall. 

"William Decker is dead," she said quietly. 

"How?"

"Heart attack, his body was found in his pool," Jenny informed. Gibbs nodded. 

"He was a good guy," Gibbs stated. She nodded, keeping her eyes away from him. 

"I'll go to LA for the funeral. You'll…"  
"Why don't I go with you, as security, then we can both say our goodbyes." 

"I can take Tony and Ziva off your hands."

"Or I could go with you and escape them all the same."

"Two agents minimum, your decree, remember?" She teased.

"I have another agent, Agent Shepard," he retorted, giving her a smirk. She chuckled. 

"Fine," She agreed. "I'll have Cynthia make the arrangements. I'm getting the window seat."

"You have your own jet now; I can't imagine that's a problem," he shot back, and she laughed again. Gibbs couldn't help the brief smile that spread across his face. He missed her, even if this was just a dream. He was going to do what he could to keep her safe in it, to keep the memory of her safe. He left the office as she turned back to her paperwork and went back down to his team. As he passed DiNozzo, he slapped the back of his head. 

"Ouch! Boss! What did I do?"

"No more fighting with Ziva," Gibbs reprimanded. 

"She dissed the movie…"

"That is because books are much better," The Mossad assassin snapped. 

"They are not!" 

"McGee!" Gibbs snapped.

"Boss?" the probie agent glanced up hesitantly.

"You're in charge for the week."  
"Me?"  
"Probie?"  
"Yes, problem?"

"No, Boss, no problem," McGee answered immediately, and Ziva smiled sweetly while Tony glared. 

"Where you going, Boss?" Tony asked.

"LA, the Director is attending an Agent's Funeral."

"Ziva and I could go," Tony tried.

"Not this time, last time you two were trusted with her security, a man dropped six stories." 

"That was not our fault," Ziva pointed out, confused as to why they were being left out. 

"You're staying." And Gibbs' word was final. Gibbs had no doubt they would bicker amongst themselves, so he decided to figure out if everything was the same as his real world. He entered the back elevator and headed down to autopsy, only finding the gremlin.

"Agent Gibbs," Palmer trembled. "Dr. Mallard stepped out to speak with Abby in her lab."  
"That's fine. Take a break, Palmer, get coffee," Gibbs ordered. Palmer did as instructed and fled the autopsy room. Gibbs waited another minute before turning back to the filing cabinet. Ducky locked them, as any responsible doctor would, but fortunately, NCIS hadn't replaced the locks, and they were quickly picked. Gibbs had the drawer open in under fifteen seconds and was quick to pull out the file marked Shepard, Jennifer. He glanced over his shoulder again as he moved what appeared to be an x-ray image to the light. He wasn't sure they were x-ray images, but it was her brain, and there was a large white spot on it. _That can't be good,_ he thought. He read through Ducky's notes detailing amino acid deficiencies and low cell counts. 

_Subject refuses further care. Will most likely prove fatal. History of similar conditions on the maternal side._

Gibbs took a deep breath. This wasn't anything new. He had known in his world that she was dying. Ducky had told him, the good doctor had failed to mention there was a possibility she could be saved. He put the images back in the folder and glanced at the autopsy table briefly. For just a second, he could see the body bag that had carried her across the country and froze. It wouldn't end that way again. Not if he had something to say about it. 

"Jethro, that better be your file." Ducky's voice was cold and direct. Gibbs glanced up to find the good doctor standing just inside the automatic doors. 

"Yes, of course," Gibbs lied, moving back to the drawer. He put it back in its correct place and closed it. He then turned back toward the door to leave.

"Let's try this again, Jethro," Ducky said. "Your file is located in the top drawer; that file went back in the middle drawer." 

"Must've put it in the wrong place," Gibbs said, turning back to the cabinet. 

"Or you were snooping through the Director's," Ducky challenged. Gibbs glanced at his friend, trying to discern any emotion. "Leave it alone." 

"Is she sick?" Gibbs asked, trying to keep his voice clear and steady. 

"Ask her." Gibbs stood still as the memory of when he had asked ran through him. 

_"Are you sick?"_

_"My health is fine; yours, however, could take a turn for the worst if you don't wrap up this investigation soon."_

Her eye had not twitched, and he had wanted to believe her then, but of course, he hadn't. Now he was doing what he should've done then. 

"Is she sick, Ducky?" Gibbs tried again. 

"Leave it alone, Jethro."

"I can't leave it alone. She's running an agency."

"She's doing a remarkable job too."

"And who's looking out for her?" Gibbs snapped back. "She's been completely irrational lately. You and I both know that Kort's guilty statement was a hoax. We both know she did it."  
"You have no evidence of that," Ducky reminded. "And you might want to give her the benefit of the doubt since she was your partner and all."

"I'm trying to keep her in a job."

"It's not your concern." 

"It is when she uses my people," Gibbs snapped. "Is she sick?"

"If you read the file, then you know the answer," Ducky finally relented, watching as his old friend visibly deflated.

"Are there, cures?"

"There are some, but they are not guaranteed to be successful."

"Set up the most likely one. Two weeks from now. She'll be there." 

"You are not her husband," Ducky reminded. 

"No…medical proxy," Gibbs answered with a faint chuckle as he held up the form. "She never changed it. And she is clearly not able to make her own decisions." 

"She wanted to tell you herself."  
"Yea…well…she might not get the chance." Gibbs turned on his heel and left the autopsy room before doubling back and swearing Ducky to secrecy. He then continued to the bullpen, where he found Abby had rejoined the group, and they were making plans. 

"Gibbs!" The Goth squealed. "We're going for drinks; you want to come?"

"No." He turned toward the catwalk to find the light near the office dark. "See you in the morning," he said to his team as he grabbed his coat and left. It didn't take him long to determine where he would go. He had to see for himself if everything was real. He pulled up in front of the Georgetown home and saw the light on in the bedroom window. He could remember standing in her entryway waiting for Svetlana, finding the letter, he wondered when she had begun it. Taking a deep breath, he moved from the car to the door and rang the bell, he could hear her feet on the stairs, and she opened the door pulling a sweater closer to her. 

"Jethro," she greeted, hiding her surprise. 

"Jen," he said in return. The words were there, on the tip of his tongue, and she invited him in and led him toward the study. He stopped for a second in the doorway and watched her walk over to the bourbon. It was then he noticed the slight tremor in her hand. How had he missed that? She poured him numerous drinks, how long had the tremor been there? "You okay?" He asked, trying to start the conversation.

"Just a bit cold," she answered in her usual tone handing him the glass. "Now, what was it you wanted?" 

"I…," he paused, seeing the faint smirk on her lips. She had looked at him like that all the time, once upon a time. Now it was a rare occurrence, and in his world, impossible. If this dream, though he was beginning to doubt it was a dream, if this dream allowed her to live, he couldn't risk giving her another reason to take on those people alone. _Coward,_ he shouted at himself as his mouth opened. "Thought we should have a drink in Decker's honor." 

"Go out for a drink?" She clarified. 

"We have bourbon here," he replied, gulping his glass. Truth be told, he didn't want to let her out of his sight until they were back from LA. 

"Well then, to Decker," she said, holding out her glass. He clinked it with his own.

"You remember that time he caught…" He felt her hand cover his mouth as she had once before.

"If that sentence is going where I think it's going, don't finish it. He teased me about that for months," she informed. There was a brief silence as he gave her a smirk, and she tried very hard not to blush. "I saw him…at his retirement party." 

"Did you?" He was surprised at that, he was there and didn't remember seeing her. 

"You were with Stephanie," She answered the unspoken question. "Ducky and I talked for a bit, and then I left." He nodded, processing that new bit for a second. 

"He won the lotto," Gibbs said after another minute.

"Yeah…he was quite happy about it too, told him he still owed me a hundred bucks from that bet in London," she recounted. 

"Come to think of it, he owes me a hundred for that same bet," Gibbs remembered chuckling at the memory of Jenny in a catfight. He turned to pour himself another drink to find Jenny staring down at her desk. "Jen?"

"You know he was there from the beginning," She said barely above a whisper. "From that first mission in Marseilles, we're the only two left." 

"Good friends," he agreed with her. He hadn't stayed in touch with that many of the former agents he'd worked with, especially not with the ones who Jenny considered friends as well. He hadn't known they were the only two left, but it certainly put everything into perspective. 

"Time runs out eventually," she said morbidly, her hands twisting in front of her. He wondered if she was thinking about the Russian she failed to shoot. About the mission, she left unfinished, or if it was just a general commentary. 

"You know the thing with hourglasses," he said after a minute. "They never actually run out of the sand. You just flip them over, and they start again." 

"That's a rather optimistic view from you," she teased. 

"Abby said it," he joked. 

"Figures." He held up the bottle in the question of another drink, and Jenny nodded, pushing her glass closer. He watched her as he poured the drink and decided there wasn't any other place he'd rather be.


	2. Part II

_Part II_

She did get the window seat. It was her jet, so what she wanted, she pretty much got, even the full-size bottle of bourbon. Gibbs had stayed by her side as was his job, much to her annoyance. Her other security details would give her the space to do what she wanted. Gibbs wasn't like the others, and he knew her too well. Give her some lead; she'll run a mile. He sat across from her in the leather chairs as the plane flew across the country, and he picked at the reports she set down. She would glare at him but mostly ignored him. He moved next to her when the captain announced they were descending and felt her tense up.

"You even have your jet, and you're still scared of landing," he teased.

"I am not scared," she bit back. He snorted but said nothing just sat beside her and tried hard not to smirk when her hand tightened on his arm. When the door opened, he stepped out into the fading sunlight, first carrying his duffle and hers as she followed with her laptop bag and purse, designer glasses covering her emerald green eyes. The press, a small gathering anyways, was present kept at bay by airport security. He opened the door to the black town car and helped her in before sliding in beside her and motioning for the driver to go. He watched the scenery go by, as Jenny reviewed another piece of paper. 

"The funeral in the morning?" He asked after a minute.

"Yes, the wake is tonight, but it's family only, not that he had much. I think it's his LA friends."

"Sounds exciting." She said nothing but sat back and put her paperwork back in order. 

"We're at the hotel, Sir," the driver announced a few minutes later. Gibbs nodded and glanced out the window noticing the press had followed again. He took a breath, trying to push away his irritation with the piranhas that had smeared her name in his world. He had taken the vow to protect her in his dream that included from the photo harpies. He stepped out of the car, watching the cameramen step closer to get a shot. He reached into the car and felt her hand take his, and she stepped out, plastering a half-smile onto her face. 

"Director, over here, Director!" The shouts started, and Jenny simply kept her focus in front of her. She felt Gibbs fall into step alongside her, his hand resting gently on her lower back, his other side free to grab his gun if anyone got too close. 

"Director, how does a perfectly healthy man die of a heart attack?" A reporter shouted, and he watched her stiffen but continue walking. He wondered if this was the tip-off; if it was possible, she suspected it hadn't been a heart attack from the beginning. Fortunately, they were quickly inside the hotel, and the press was not allowed to follow. He turned to find Jenny's smile gone and her emotions hidden. They checked in at the desk, the lady they're explaining that all they had was the large suite available. 

"It has two bedrooms," The lady assured. 

"It will be fine," Jenny assured, accepting the room keys and moved toward the elevator, Gibbs remaining silent beside her. The elevator was empty as they stepped in and pressed the button for the top floor. 

"One suite?"

"Two beds," she reminded. "You have a problem with that?" 

"We've shared less space," he pointed out teasingly. "With Decker even." At that, she chuckled lightly but stopped as the door opened again. They walked into the hall and down to the corner suite, Jenny opened the door. Gibbs let out a low whistle when they entered, noticing the champagne bottle and glasses along with the platter of fruit and chocolate strawberries. He checked the room thoroughly as Jenny pulled out the equipment to do a bug sweep. "Nice."

"The perks of being Director," she said when he gave the all-clear. She picked up the strawberry and slipped it between her lips. Gibbs turned away. He had forgotten how much that could affect him. "Jethro?"

"Hm?"

"About last night…" she started hesitantly before turning away. "God, that's cliché."  
"Nothing happened, Jen."

"I know, but…" She shrugged. "You didn't have to stay."

"Decker…was a friend. Maybe we needed to stop being Agent and Director and just be partners who lost their team member," he tried; surprised he was even suggesting it. She gave a soft smile. 

"Maybe." Nothing more was said that night except in preparation for the morning's services. He bid her goodnight, surprised that she left the door to her room, cracked open. He did not make use of the bed but instead made a list of everything that had happened in what he thought was reality and in this dream. He wasn't too sure which was which at this point, all he knew was the future without Jenny Shepard wasn't one he wanted to live in. 

The following morning, Jenny didn't comment on how tired he looked, merely wished him a good morning, and accepted the coffee he had ready. They attended the service sitting in a back row close to the end, Gibbs' eyes furiously scanning the area. Jenny moved forward to sign the register for her and Gibbs when Gibbs felt something, something similar to what he had felt the day she had been killed. He reacted almost immediately and turned toward her to find her walking back towards him. 

"Do you have a guest by the name Mr. Oshiymida?" A thick Russian voice inquired of the guestbook keeper. Gibbs observed Jenny as she seemed shocked but kept moving. She glanced over at him, and he pretended to be scanning the area. If she thought he hadn't heard, maybe he would see her try something. 

"Jethro," she called gently once she was close enough. "Perhaps you'd like to go back, I think I can handle speaking to the girlfriend by myself," she tried. 

"I am your detail."  
"You can have some time off if you want to," she said, trying to keep cool. Gibbs could see she was stressed and that she was trying to keep him from noticing something. 

"I am not about to let you disappear when someone is clearly looking for us," he said after a moment, realizing he would have to at least tell her he heard. 

"What?"

"You heard what that Russian said, Decker's death was not an accident."  
"I thought you hated to assume."  
"A code that three people knew, the other two being you and me, we have to consider that he gave it up." 

"I already sent Abby pictures, she should have an ID for us soon," Jenny said after a minute. 

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"  
"No," she answered. "We'll need a car." He motioned to the town car with the missing driver. 

"We're going to need help." 

"Franks?" Gibbs nodded at her guess. If she had called for his help on her own, then he would hope he was good enough. It was Jenny who called Franks and demanded his presence, and it was Jenny who explained the situation with what Gibbs guessed was the actual truth. Franks stepped out as they went to the girlfriend's house. 

"What I tell you about them loose ends?" Franks asked the younger man. Gibbs turned to his mentor. 

"To tie them off. I did." 

"Did you now?" He inquired. "Someone screwed the pooch." 

"She isn't responsible." 

"If you think so," Franks replied before following Jenny inside the home. Minutes later, he watched the girlfriend leave. He hoped she made it safely wherever she was going. It took more time for Jenny to remerge, and he was just about to go in after her when the phone rang. He saw it was Franks, and he picked up only to hear both their voices. 

_"Gibbs can't know."_

_"He's waiting outside."_

_"I'll get the team to give him false information, this is my job, and I'm going to finish it. It ends in that diner."_ The line went dead after that, but Gibbs didn't need to hear anymore. He knew where the diner was, and he drove there, hoping to beat them. He pulled into the dinner and pulled his car behind. No sense in tipping her off. He waited just outside as he heard the two pull up and find the insurance policy. He listened to what he guessed may have been her last conversation in his own world. 

"That would explain all the conversations we had on my boat, about the job," Franks said after a long pause, and he could hear Jenny shifting. "You made your bed."  
"What if I don't want to lie in it?"

"Gibbs know?"

"Would it make a difference?"

"When I asked you if Gibbs knew, I didn't mean about your feelings," Franks insisted. "He knows you're sick?"  
"How did you know?"

"Person gets this look in their eyes…"

"You're not that good."

"I went through your purse." Jenny was silent, and Gibbs felt it was time for his appearance. 

"This ends here," she said just as he entered the door, she pulled her gun on him.

"Probie, nice of you to join us," Franks greeted. Jenny lowered her weapon. "I'll get some water." The older man stepped out of the rundown dinner and left the two together. 

"Jethro…" she trailed off. "You need to leave."

"That's not happening. Marine and all," he insisted. "This is my fault in the end."  
"I didn't make the kill," Jenny informed. 

"I shouldn't have asked you to. Cold blood killing never came naturally to you; I taught you that," he told her. "I should've checked that you'd done it." He sighed, wondering if he was here if it would change either of their fates. Perhaps he would simply die with her, so maybe this might be the last chance he got. "I wondered for a long time if that was why you'd left." 

"I left because she was looking for me, looking to kill the lover of the man who had killed hers," she said, glancing out the window. He wanted to say something, but the sound of tires filled his ears. 

"Either way, this ends here," he said. He released his weapon as she clicked the safety off of hers. "Semper Fi, Jen." She nodded and ducked behind a table as the doors opened. The sound of gunshots filled the air, and Gibbs fired at will, taking out all he could. He spotted the one coming in behind, the one he guessed had delivered the wound to Jenny in his other world. Gibbs shot him before he could draw his gun. One wound she would not suffer. He heard her gasp in pain and saw her fall to her knee, still firing. He came closer to her, covering her taking a round to his shoulder before firing the last kill shot. At that, Franks entered firing a shot into each head. 

"Jethro," Gibbs tilted his head to find her on both her knees, one hand pressed to her side. 

"Hey, I got you," he said, taking over the wound control. He pressed down, trying to stop the blood. "You did good, Jen."

"It's not over," she whispered, collapsing into his arms. Franks helped Gibbs stand with her supported between them.

Hours later, Gibbs sat in a plastic chair inside a private hospital room, his shoulder all patched up, waiting for Jenny to open her eyes. Franks had found Decker's 'insurance policy' and had taken it back to Mexico with him. Now all he had to do was wait for Svetlana to show up, and it would be over. If she survived till then, she would have the procedure, and perhaps he could write off his other memories as a horrible nightmare. 

"Jethro," came her soft voice. He turned to the bed to find her green eyes open wide. 

"Hey, you okay?"

"I feel like I've been shot four times."  
"Only twice," he told her. "The doctors say you can leave when you're coherent." 

"I'm fine," She assured, trying to sit up. Gibbs helped her to a sitting position. "Did Franks get…"

"It's in Mexico."  
"And Svetlana?"  
"She hasn't shown yet," he answered. Jenny nodded. 

"Perhaps we should make her show." It was then they retreated to her house. Gibbs had made the call; Jenny waited in the kitchen in the dark. Gibbs waited in the study, taking the opportunity to go through her things as he had before. He pocketed the half-finished letter just as the door opened. 

"Mr. Oshymida?" Came the Russian accent. 

"That's what they call me."

"You took my Anatoly, the woman she could not kill me, but I vowed to kill her." 

"Can you do it?" Gibbs questioned. He watched the gun come level only to hear the shot firing from behind as Jenny stepped in and finished a mission ten years in the making. 

"I can now," Jenny answered without even blinking. "We have to get rid of the body." 

"We could torch the house," he suggested. 

"Or we could call Abby." Abby seemed like the safer bet, and so it was the Goth that appeared an hour later entering the house checking over 'mommy and daddy.' 

"We need to get rid of a body," Gibbs said. 

"Dump it in the ocean."  
"Those tend to resurface," Jenny informed. "We need complete secrecy, Abby," the redhead stressed. So Abby processed her first scene and got rid of the evidence, she had found the bullet matched Gibbs gun and assumed that he had been protecting the Director. 

"You guys should probably leave, though," Abby suggested. Gibbs agreed and led Jenny out the door. He drove to his own house and helped her out of the car there. They retreated to the basement where Gibbs moved to his hand tools. He had left the folder Tobias had dropped off open, already knowing what it contained. He heard her gasp as she found the evidence against her. 

"It's a match," he said as she stared at it. 

"It was justified," she stated, staring at the magazine for her gun. 

"Was it?" He questioned. She looked up at him as he stood in front of her. "Or perhaps it's that tumor pressing on the part of your brain." She nearly jumped at his words and tried to find something to counter with it. "The same tumor you're having removed tomorrow morning."

"WHAT?" That deserved a response. He held up a piece of paper.

"You never changed your medical proxy," Gibbs told her. "I consulted with the best doctors Ducky could find; they all agree now that it might be treatable."

"Might, this surgery might fail. It might be too late." 

"Either you go through with the surgery, and you die on the table, or you die as a shell of the woman you were. Your first plan failed Jen, try my plan B," he argued. 

"If I agree to this, you take La Grenouille's death to the grave."

"Was planning too, but if that's the condition, yes. It's forgotten. I'll personally destroy the evidence." 

"Then, I agree." 


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of these are short chapters.

_Part III_

That following morning she was prepped for surgery, and Gibbs once again found himself waiting in a plastic hospital chair. They had agreed not to tell the team, not unless it was necessary. So only Ducky knew, and the good doctor sat beside him, waiting for news, trying to offer hope. Ducky had quickly determined his old friend did not want platitudes, he just wanted to see Jenny, but Ducky had to try.

“She’s strong, Jethro.” 

“I saw her die,” Gibbs said after a minute, finally feeling able to talk about what he had determined was his dream. “She died in that diner, alone, slowly and painfully. I called her to find Tony answering, telling me she was gone. I burnt her house to the ground…my team was split up…everything was gone.”

“Dreams often deal with possible outcomes of events that occurred. It is not unreasonable to believe it may have happened in that manner,” Ducky agreed. “But it hasn’t. She’s fighting. The question becomes, is she fighting alone?” Gibbs looked up at his friend. “I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other for three years; you want to wait for another three?” Gibbs was prevented from answering by the appearance of doctors. 

“Agent Gibbs, Dr. Mallard,” the one doctor greeted. 

“Yes?” Ducky returned, “How is she?”  
“It was successful; her body is also responding to the treatment. It does not appear to be the genetic anomaly we believed, simply a tumor. There were the beginnings of others, but they too have been removed. She’ll need monitoring, but overall I would expect her to live a full and healthy life.” 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Ducky said, watching as Gibbs tried to sneak a peek around the doctor. “When can we see her?”

“One of you can come back with me now and be with her as we transfer to a private room.”

“I’ll go,” Gibbs volunteered before Ducky could even suggest something else. He stayed hot on the doctor’s heels and went right up to her bedside. She was still out, and Gibbs watched the slight rise and fall of her chest. Part of her hair had been cut off, and so Gibbs was glad he had found a wig that she might like. He walked alongside the bed as the doctors and nurses moved it to the private room. She was placed there amongst some flowers he had gotten. He pushed the chair closer to the bed and watched her, waiting. He could hear Ducky come and go, saying something about checking on her later, the nurses came in every half hour like clockwork to check her vitals, and the doctor came by every six hours. 

It was using that timetable that he had determined at least two days had passed. Jenny had woken up briefly but wasn’t very coherent and had gone right back to sleep. So it was with hesitation that Gibbs watched her eyelids flutter open on the evening of the second day. 

“Ow,” came the quiet moan, and it had Gibbs on his feet leaning over her.

“Hey, you with us?” He asked gently. 

“Jethro?” 

“Got that one right,” he teased. “You know what day it is?”

“May…2009, end of May?” She tried. 

“Yea, May 28,” he told her. “You remember anything else?”  
“LA…Decker’s dead…the Russians, The Frog…well that parts a little hazy,” she said. 

“That’s okay. You remember the big stuff,” Gibbs assured. Jenny nodded as best she could but turned her head and tried to scan down her body. “The surgery was successful.”  
“Oh,” she responded. 

“Jen?”  
“It’s just… something feels off, I feel like I should be dead, but logically I know there weren’t enough wounds for that,” Jenny explained. GibbsGibbs took a deep breath, his mind flashing back to the body bag of her in that dream. 

“Doctors said everything went smoothly,” he told her. “You’re going to live a nice long life.”

“No,” she answered. “You can’t promise me that no one can promise that.”

“Jenny,” he said quietly. “You have your life; you have your job…”

“No family,” she said bitterly. “I spent the whole last year thinking I was going to die. I was ready to step down from my position if I even lived that long,” She informed. “Now…Now I don’t know what to do. “

“Well, if you don’t like the bed you’ve made, make a new one,” he suggested removing the wrinkled half-finished letter from his coat. “You could start with that.” 

“I asked you months ago; you turned me down.” That part she remembered clearly. “Why are you even here?”  
“Why am I here?”  
“These are not the actions of a man who doesn’t want a relationship. You’re acting...like you used to.”

“In your hallway that night,” he began trying to form words. He didn’t often use them. “I didn’t know what you wanted. I knew what I wanted, but I was confused about you, you tend to do that to me.” She tried to hide a smirk at that. “Looking back…maybe you would’ve told me about your illness then, maybe we could’ve done something sooner. I thought about going back and changing my answer, but it seemed like you just shut the door on it completely. After the Frog…I understood what you did, sympathized with it even, and at the same time, I didn’t want you to have justification.”

She wasn’t entirely surprised to hear that. She had known Gibbs felt she was in the wrong. He thought that she had acted irrationally and possibly that was true, but her one justification was that he had sought justice for his family in his style, why should she be denied the same? Perhaps her methods were not correct, but the result was still going to be the same. She watched as he looked past her toward the window as if something else was before his eyes. 

“So then what’s changed?” She asked, drawing his attention back. 

“Decker’s dead.” He started. “And sometimes I can’t help but think that you might have died in that diner. I don’t want to go through that again.” It occurred to her then that he might be comparing her to Shannon or her leaving. Either way, she wasn’t sure what her response should be. “It helped knowing I wasn’t the only one with regrets.”

“You heard me talking to Mike,” she realized. “How much?”  
“Pretty much from the time he told you why I came back,” he said. “He was right.” 

“You wanted to pick it up when I came back,” she recalled after a minute. “I didn’t think I could have both.” 

“And now?”

“Now, I only know that I want one,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be with anyone else except you. It’s insanely frustrating because we shouldn’t work, but we do.”

“Something made you change your mind a few months ago,” he reminded.

“Oh…I know what it was,” Jenny sighed. Gibbs quirked an eyebrow. “Hollis. I really, really didn’t like that. No one was happier than I that she left,” she paused. “Well, maybe, Abby.” 

“Abby?”  
“She didn’t like the stepmother,” Jenny informed. “She’s quite content to manage your love life, and I’m quite content to let her.”

“Hollis wasn’t all bad,” he said. “She just…she was more like Laura.” 

“Laura, is that the first ex?” He nodded.

“And in every way that Laura and Shannon were the same, you and Hollis were as well.”  
“You never said anything when you came back.”

“You had someone,” he reminded. “Someone more suited to you.” 

“No one is more suited than you,” She told him gently, taking his hand where it lay next to hers. “No one ever will be, I came to terms with that a long time ago.” 

“How long?”

“At least a decade,” she answered. “I thought about coming back, often, then you were remarried, and I wondered if it ever meant the same to you as it did to me. I came back…I almost quit after Kate’s funeral. I didn’t think I could be around you and not be with you. Sometimes I think it should’ve happened then, but there are moments now…I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” 

“Should it happen now?” She nodded. 

“If you want,” she said. “It can’t be my decision alone, and it better not be because I’m lying in this hospital bed.” 

“Nah…” he teased, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “Though it does give me ideas.” 

“Mind out of the bedroom Jethro,” she warned. He laughed lightly before leaning in closer. She moved her head slightly and felt his lips brush against hers. He deepened the kiss, her lips fighting for dominance over his before they pulled apart for air. Their foreheads pressed together, sapphire meeting emerald. “So…when can I leave?” 

He laughed. 


	4. Part IV

_Part IV_

He stretched out in the bed that he seemed to spend more time in lately, enjoying the crack in his back. His eyes remained closed, sensing the sun on the other side of his eyelids. He was more than content to lie there amongst the rumpled sheets. His side, though, felt cold. His arm stretched out, searching for the warm body that usually rested alongside his. He felt nothing but crisp sheets. His head snapped up immediately to confirm the missing body. He froze for a minute before glancing around the room, finding no overt sign of her. Although he could swear, her perfume lingered. 

Had it all been a dream? Over the last few months, he had concluded that the nightmare of her death was just that…a nightmare. Was it possible he’d been in another coma? Could he have dreamt of their new life? He bolted from the bed pulling on his jeans and a pullover hastily as he ran from the room. He ran down the stairs searching for the blanket he had draped over her last night; it was folded on the side of the couch, untouched. Hesitantly he approached the door to the basement; he saw the boat, the red-painted name _Jenny_ scrawled on the back. He felt his heart clench. _Please let it not have been a dream._

Without a thought, he grabbed his badge, weapon, and keys flying to the car and throwing into the drive, speeding down the quiet road. He honked his way through traffic, broke every speed limit that existed, and probably a few other traffic laws but fortunately found no cops in his rush. He didn’t even bother to properly park the car, tossing his keys to Palmer, who had stepped out the door. The young ME was too stunned to question him. He didn’t bother with the elevator taking the stairs and running full tilt to the bullpen. 

He paused briefly to glance over his territory, looking for his team but spying nothing but computers on desk. No fancy shoulder bag left by Ziva, no magazine left by Tony, no sounds of computer keys clicking as McGee hunted for something, just nothing. His mind tried to supply reasons, Tony could be late as usual, Ziva could be running an errand, McGee could be with Abby, but nothing seemed to register through the chaos that was the pain of the empty space beside him on the bed. He took a deep breath and headed for the stairs taking them three at a time sure that anyone who might be watching would think him insane. _Let them_ , Gibbs thought momentarily as he ran down the catwalk, past Cynthia’s unusually empty desk and through the solid door that guarded the Director’s territory. He saw none of the decorations, not the paintings of the Eiffel Tower or the crystal decanter full of bourbon, nothing but the high back of the desk chair, facing the window. It rotated slowly, and Gibbs felt frozen to his spot just inside the door. 

Then there was a glimpse of leg, a long toned calf that ended in red stilettos. Running up the other way, his eyes hit the edge of a black skirt followed by a dark green blouse and then finally the tendrils of flame-red hair and emerald green eyes. He watched as her hand gripped the phone at her ear tightly for a second before her lips moved, and suddenly the phone was placed down. 

“Jethro?” Her voice was the sound of thousands of sirens, and he sailed straight to them. Before she could blink, he had his hand on her arm, pulling her from the chair and his lips meeting hers, stealing her breath for a long moment. Tasting, testing, almost reassuring himself she was real and not some myth. 

“God Jen,” he whispered as he broke from her lips, holding her to him. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she answered, guessing this was not the time to be wondering if he was in trouble. She let him have her strength, not resisting as he led her to the couch and held her in his arms there as they sat. She finally felt some of the tension leave and gently stroked his cheek with her hand. “What’s wrong, Jethro? 

“You weren’t there.”

“When?”

“When I woke up.” She paused, she had left before, and so had he for that matter, but he had never reacted like this. 

“I left a note, Cynthia called, SecNav wanted to chat, so I came in, I thought you would want to sleep.” 

“And my team?” He asked after a second.

“They’re probably at home asleep,” she laughed lightly. 

“And you’re not sick?”

“No,” she answered, pulling back. “I would tell you, Jethro, if I relapsed, I would tell you.”

“And Decker’s dead?”

“Yes.”  
“And Svetlana?”  
“Yes. Jethro, what is this about?” 

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, but she arched an eyebrow. “Just remembering Rule 8.” 

“Never take anything for granted?”

“Exactly, especially gorgeous redhead directors,” he teased, relaxing entirely with her. She smirked.

“We’re not having sex in this office,” she responded. Gibbs shifted leaning over her slightly. 

“We’ll see about that,” he whispered, kissing her again. 

“Then we’d be breaking Rule 12?”

“Haven’t you heard,” he whispered as he nibbled on her ear.

“Hm?”

“Rule 12’s been abolished.” 

“Uhhuh, and what’s Rule 12 now?” He stopped his ministrations for a moment watching her, and she leaned up, kissing him. “Jethro?” He didn’t answer simply kissed her again…and again…. and again…. before whispering something that made her blush his favorite color. _Second chances indeed_ , he thought as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders before all thought ceased. 

**The End**


End file.
